


This Ain't No Clean Getaway

by deandoesthingstome



Category: Drive (2011), Supernatural
Genre: Defense Mechanism, F/M, Family History, Ghosts, Irish Mob, Italian Mafia, Other, Sarcasm, Sexual Tension, Smut, Supernatural Crossover, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:12:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5504276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandoesthingstome/pseuds/deandoesthingstome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Siobhan O'Malley is the recipient of a lovely brooch from the dead, Irish grandmother she never got to meet due to her father's family struggles. The brooch brings all sorts out of the wood work, including Dean Winchester, hunky supernatural hunter and all around cocky savior; Driver, quiet sometimes-neighbor with a mysterious occupation; and what are quite possibly honest to God real ghosts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a writing assignment from my husband. I think he meant it to be smutty right off the bat, but I really wanted to see where these three could go before I get there, so Chapter 1 is no smut at all.

Siobhan O’Malley never met her paternal grandmother. At least not at an age she would have remembered. 

Her father had picked up and moved his tiny starter family far from the windy Chicago streets when she was only three months old, ignoring his own father’s offer of a stately home on a dozen or more acres in Rock Island, away from the growing tension in the city. The home, along with several others, had been in the family for generations and Michael O’Malley could never understand why his only son was turning his back on the legacy.

Seattle had treated Siobhan’s family well and though her maternal grandparents visited frequently, even moving out west after a time to be near their only granddaughter, Frank’s parents never visited once. And he never bothered to take Eliza or Siobhan with him when he reluctantly headed the summons to handle family matters in the Midwest every now and then.

Siobhan herself had moved south after college, seeking adventure the northwest just couldn’t provide. Las Vegas fit that bill for her after she tried L.A, San Francisco and even an ill-fated three weeks in Miami. She could see herself tiring of the lights and action someday, but for now, Vegas was her love.

She returned as soon as possible after meeting her parents in Chicago for the reading of her grandmother’s will. She had heard stories over the years, but really never understood the depth and breadth of her extended family. These were people she’d never met in her life. It was awkward to be the only cousin who didn’t have an inside joke or knowing glance. 

They were polished, put together, biting wit on most of them. Good to know that at least ran in the family. The deference to the elders was something she never understood, but she bit her tongue on more than one occasion at the behest of her father. He always told her he was proud to have raised a self-sufficient woman who never took anyone’s word for anything, but he begged her to keep it in check for the sake of this one time she would need to mingle with the O’Malleys. 

She was given one lone piece of jewelry from the estate and a small lump of cash. She could only assume, and in some ways hope, this was much less than what any of her cousins, well known to Nana O’Malley, would have received. The cash would make a nice nest egg if she could keep herself from blowing it as soon as she got back to Vegas. But the brooch; well it was something altogether otherworldly. In more ways than one.  
______

“You stay right where you are and turn around slowly, sweetheart.” Dean grunted out the words from behind the driver’s side of the Impala, .45 trained over the hood and directed at the back of the dark haired beauty he’d been chasing around Vegas all night.

Siobhan raised her hands above her head and twisted on her heels on the opposite side of the two lane road from the sleek, black car. His emerald eyes were just as penetrating now that he was angry as they had been when he seemed captivated by her, back at the bar. But now she had to wonder, given the circumstances, was that little come on all an act designed to throw her off guard while he figured out a way to relieve her of the only tangible piece of family history she owned?

He had seemed genuine enough when he bought her a round and then another and commented while motioning across his own face that even though she had a head of sleek black hair, they could practically be twins with the piercing green eyes and splattering of freckles. She had smiled so widely at that, because she’d always thought the freckles made her look silly and often wondered how many men looked right past her since her complexion wasn’t perfectly creamy or golden, but rather dotted with personality. And here was maybe, finally, a man who understood perfection wasn’t beauty.

Only he turned out to want something else from her and she wasn’t willing to give it up.

“If you have it on you, and I know you do so don’t try and con me again, you’d be wise to just head over here and hand it over. For your own safety, really.”

“You are really something else, you know that? Shitty move and one I cannot believe I never saw coming because I know better than to be thrown into a tailspin over some pretty face only out for himself,” Siobhan replied with a bit of sadness, hands still raised and feet moving nowhere.

“Flattery like that would normally get you everywhere, but right now you need to hand over the pin. You have no idea what you are dealing with.” Dean was growing agitated but remained inexplicably behind the car, a mistake he’d regret soon enough.

“I know I’m dealing with some slick Casanova with a penchant for sparkly jewelry. But I don’t think this piece really matches your outfit and I’d rather keep it if you don’t mind.”

“Sweetheart,” Dean said again, with a low growl that would have brought her running in almost any other circumstance. “I didn’t say who, I said what. You’ve no idea _what_ you are dealing with.”

A revving engine distracted Dean long enough for Siobhan to lower her arms and take off running again. His barked command to stop was barely heard over the approaching vehicle, which was now slowing to pace beside her. As the window slid down, another voice called out into the dark.

“Get in.” Siobhan recognized the car and Driver and although she had a brief moment of doubt given all the events that had been transpiring in her life since receiving the brooch, she obliged and pulled the door open just as the Chevelle came to a complete stop. She had barely enough time to shut the door before the car sped off again. Turning to peer out the rear window before buckling her seat belt, Siobhan was sure she noticed Dean’s Impala racing down the road as well.

Twenty minutes later down a dirt road with lights off, Driver pulled up next to an abandoned motel and ushered Siobhan into a vacant room, latching the door behind them. She’d been quiet the whole ride, silently fuming about the turn of events and loss of upper hand with Dean, but was now raring to go.

“Where the fuck did you come from? You following me again? I’ve literally had it with you guys today. Spill it, wouldja? What the fuck is going on?” 

Siobhan knew Driver only peripherally. Though he lived in L.A., he rented a small studio apartment in her building in Vegas as well and she’d smiled at him from time to time in the elevator. She imagined once or twice that he had returned the pleasantry, but he was silent and standoffish most other times, hence the reason she really only knew him by his profession, which seemed to be stunt driver for the movies.

He’d suddenly returned from being away for more than a few consecutive months and she’d been seeing him all over town over the past week since getting back from Chicago. Every time, he appeared to be watching her. And now she was doubting the snippets of information gleaned from conversations with the neighbors because what would a Hollywood stunt driver want with her out in the middle of the desert?

Not that she had never entertained the thought of being alone with him, smoothing her hands over the satiny jacket he always wore and tracing her fingertips over the scorpion embroidered on the back before reaching to unzip and remove the jacket from his broad shoulders. Not that it would get her any closer to the short sleeve Henley he was always wearing anytime she saw him, stretched tight across his chest, since the dark blue, heavy denim button up peered out from the jacket collar anyway.

A small throat clearing brought Siobhan back to the motel room, as the watery blue of his eyes grabbed hold and would not let go.

“You’re in danger."

“No shit. You know this how?” Siobhan could never just listen, never not toss a sarcastic quip in someone’s direction and she needed to hold onto whatever semblance of normalcy she could on this night when all the crazy seemed destined to overlap. But she regretted her harsh words when she saw the concern shadow Driver’s face.

A loud banging sounded on the door and Siobhan practically jumped out of her skin. Driver peered out the faded yellow drapes, then glanced back to see if Siobhan was ready for what was coming.

“Lady, you gotta let me in. You can’t hide from this, I swear. I’m sorry if I wasn’t up front with you from the get go; this isn’t the kind of thing most people can hear. But you don’t let me in, not even your boyfriend in there can save you from shit storm about to rain down.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets the pin from Siobhan, finally. But she's having thoughts about more than how to keep that pin to herself.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Siobhan mumbled as Dean shouldered his way past the door frame, dropping a large green duffle from which he had pulled a box of salt.

“Whatever, sweetheart.” Siobhan watched in stunned confusion as a thick line of white crystals was sprinkled across the threshold to the room. Dean turned to the lone window next and then checked out the bathroom, satisfied there was no entry requiring the barrier.

“What exactly are you doing?” Siobhan began to pace nervously, jumping when Dean warned her not to disturb the lines. “And what do _you_ know about what’s going on?” she directed at Driver.

Dean settled on the bed, dragging the duffle over to sit at his feet and bending down to rummage through it once more. “You can get that answer from him later. Right now, and I mean immediately, you are going to put the pin in this box.”

Dean held out a small square wooden box with the lid flipped open. It was lined in red satin and covered in strange markings, burnt or engraved into the wood.

“I told you, I’m not handing over the only inheritance I received from my grandmother,” Siobhan was insistent.

“Let me tell you about that inheritance. It’s cursed. And if you don’t put it in this box, you are too.”

Siobhan stared blankly at Dean, turned to assess how Driver was handling the news and widened her eyes when she realized he didn’t seem phased by this information. She took a few deep breaths, also trying unsuccessfully to ignore the ache she still felt when she realized it was likely Dean hadn’t actually been hitting on her this evening. At least not without ulterior motives. As she tried to cool that flame, she noticed another shoot up when she blinked and refocused on Driver.

He remained quiet, saying nothing more since advising her he knew she was in danger. Somehow, he knew Dean wasn’t the danger. His calm exterior brought Siobhan back to all those stolen glances in elevators and down halls. Why she chose this moment, in this abandoned motel, under these unnerving conditions to recall the way he smoldered quietly every time she saw him, she’d never know. She only knew how she spent countless nights imagining the way he might press her against the fake wood paneling of the elevator, a lone hand spread wide on the wall next to her head while a second hand would grip her hip and hold her in place, warm breath fanning over her neck as he refused her any additional contact.

Siobhan shook her head to clear the fantasy and brought her attention back to the brooding blonde leaning against the shabby motel room desk, ankles and arms crossed, toothpick moving lazily in the corner of his mouth. She knew Driver wasn’t the danger either.

“Sweetheart. Pin. Now!” Dean’s insistence snapped Siobhan fully back to reality. Two handsome men in a motel room didn’t have to be only a fantasy, but clearly Dean was preoccupied with the brooch and maybe, Siobhan thought, she ought to get back to that, too. She pulled the pin from the inside pocket of her jacket, taking note of the way Dean’s eyes traced her motions. Was he worried she’d pull a weapon instead? Or was it possible he really did think more of her than just a mark and these were genuinely unfortunate circumstances? Was he still intrigued by her form and content, even with all the running around he’d put up with this evening? Siobhan walked slowly towards the bed, choosing to remove the jacket entirely and test the waters.

This may not really be the time or place, but dammit if Dean hadn’t lit something in her that she didn’t exactly want to put out. A quick glance left told her Driver was watching intently as well, but his face was stony as ever, no trace of emotion betraying what he might be thinking of her actions. Stoic indifference was all she could read from him, as ever.

Dean’s bright emerald eyes never left her face as she pretended to feel overheated and strip the jacket off for relief. It wasn’t really a lie if, even though the room was cool, a warmth was radiating from her core, causing a blush to creep up her chest and onto her cheeks, was it? She was sure she saw a flicker of desire, more than the show he’d put on in the bar. She was usually so adept at picking out the lies, the muddy intentions behind a whiskey-soaked come on. How she missed it in Dean, she’d never know. It didn’t really cross her mind at the moment that there could indeed have been truth behind his singular focus on her at the bar. She’d realized too late he wanted the brooch from her, above all else apparently. She didn’t let herself think then that maybe, just maybe, she’d been an unexpected surprise for him. She had never been anyone’s unexpected surprise.

* * *

 

When Siobhan moved to Vegas, after trying her hand at dancing in Miami, she knew she could never go down that road again and set her sights on a simple casino waitress gig. She liked the idea of dancing seductively for a man, and if he wanted to pay a lot of money to watch, she was fine with that, too. In reality, she wasn’t great at the art. If she’d had a mentor, if just one of the other ladies working the club had taken her under their wing and shown her a few moves or maybe helped her develop her own signature sways she could have overcome the plainness of her face and put her body to work. But that world was cutthroat and she was frankly glad to be out of it.

The women were backstabbing bitches, truthfully. Money talked above all else and whatever girl code she’d been hoping for (‘Hey, we back each other up! No matter what!’) was nowhere to be found. At least not in Miami. Vegas was probably not going to be much different in that aspect, but she was still craving adventure.

She started off slinging drinks in the slow hours at a small casino and caught a break when one of the regular servers called in “sick” (also known as either “landed a better gig” or “snagged me a sugar daddy”). She was a hit with the customers; sassy when she needed to be, consoling when called for. She might as well be a bartender. Which is what the bar manager had promoted her to almost immediately once he realized her potential. She knew how to push that final drink without sending anyone into a tailspin and was extremely adept at cutting someone off when it was clear another round was going to lead to misery for all involved. She classed the joint up.

And when the manager moved on to a larger casino, cashing in on the success of her hard work, the owner of the establishment begged her to stay and take over the bar. The owner was a savvy business woman and was very aware of who had been driving increased sales and repeat customers and was glad to reward Siobhan with a fat raise and bigger compensation package if it meant she wouldn’t also seek out a larger casino for a bigger paycheck. Siobhan was all about loyalty.

She’d also had her share of good times. But in this town, most men were looking for a looker. And not that Siobhan wasn’t pretty, she just wasn’t any competition for Angelina Jolie and she wasn’t willing to get cut to change that fact. Nothing lasted longer than a few weeks, enough time for another gorgeous face to grab his attention and leave her questioning just what was really wrong with her. The past week, ever since she’d returned from Chicago, all of that had changed. In a strange, not entirely welcome way.

It had started when she stepped out of the double doors past security and picked up her suitcase at baggage claim. She noticed a driver, slick backed black ponytail straight out of The Sopranos, holding a sign with her name on it.

“Do I know you?” Siobhan had asked. “Who sent you?”

“A friend. Please, allow me to carry your bag, miss. The limo is right outside and we have a small safe for the pin if you’d like to secure it for the ride.”

“What friend? And how do you know about the pin?” Siobhan briefly assumed her boss had sent the car. The casino had several agencies on retainer when a large client was in town or a high roller needed some special treatment. But this was not a regular driver and she did not trust his vagueness in the slightest.

“Look, it’s sweet of whoever sent you, but my car is in the lot and I can drive myself. Thank you.” She reached a $20 out of her pocket and tried to offer it the driver “For your trouble?” but he waved her off.

“You really don’t want to anger this friend, miss.”

“Well since I don’t have any idea who ‘this friend’ is, I can’t really say I much care at this point. You wanna come clean and give me a little more info? I’d be happy to reconsider the ride, if so.”

The driver huffed, clearly not at liberty to say who had sent the limo and very aware he was failing at his mission. He turned on his heel and Siobhan followed him out toward the transportation hub. He stopped and stared at her as she realized she was about to hail a cab. Before he could open his mouth and ask once more, Siobhan headed toward the long term parking shuttles.

She rode that bus full circle, back to departures where she was finally able to pick up a cab since she actually didn’t have a car at all. She giggled a little at the ruse, unaware she’d made strike one.

Strike two had come in the form of a much less threatening, but no less vague gentleman who hit on her relentlessly at the bar. He looked like a young Al Pacino from The Godfather and she almost trusted his sweet, young face. When he insisted on walking her home (“It’s late, honey. You never know who’s out there.”), she obliged, keeping her hand in on the mace hooked to her keychain the whole way. He did not want to take no for an answer when he asked to be invited in for a night cap. He’d also hinted at wanting to view the brooch in her possession; said he was an antiques dealer and would love to appraise the piece for her. Again, she was struck by his knowledge of the jewelry; she hadn’t really told anyone about the piece yet and this felt weird. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Luckily, Mrs. Evans stuck her head out the door of the apartment across the courtyard and Siobhan had been able to twist out of his cold grasp and into her apartment, locking the door quickly behind her. “What the hell is going on?” she whispered as she let go of the breath she’d been holding and sank to the ground, back against the door.

* * *

 

“Fine. You have what you want. Can I go now? _Sugar_.”

Dean snapped the box lid shut as soon as Siobhan dropped the pin inside and flinched slightly at the exaggerated tone of the term of endearment. He hadn’t meant to insult her. He really had found her sweet. And sexy. But this was a job and his life was on the line and if he had to run the number on her, make her feel special (even though he was pretty sure she was), then he was going to lay it on thick. He’d called her Sugar and Sweetheart at the bar a bunch of times. And every time she’d responded like no one had ever called her those things and meant it.

“I don’t think so. I need a little more time to make sure they don’t see you anymore.”

“Wait, what? Make sure who doesn’t see me? What the fuck is going on?” Siobhan was distraught.

This evening had been a nightmare like she’d never experienced. After dismissing Dean when his questions clued her into what he was after, she checked out of the bar, handed closing duties over to the night manager, and headed home.

Strike three came when ‘Pacino’ showed up again outside the bar and strong armed her against the wall of the building. She heard an engine gun while he asked about the brooch. She shivered at his icy touch on her upper arm but went wide eyed and ran immediately when he disappeared as soon as she swung a fist to his face.

She turned briefly when she heard Dean’s voice holler for her and saw him get into the black Impala parked just outside the casino. All of her thoughts turned to escape. From everyone.

“What just happened?” she shouted silently to herself then tried to decide whether she should hop on the next bus arriving at the stop she was just passing or if she could wait to hail a cab. She saw a flash of grey as a primer coated Chevelle sped past and she could have sworn this was the same car revving while “Pacino” accosted her outside the bar. And down the street, a black Impala was weaving through traffic as well. She decided to chance it on the streets, ducking into a few alley ways to throw Dean off. But she still felt followed and watched and sometimes found herself shivering despite the hot, evening air. Siobhan didn’t think she was coming down with a cold, but what other explanation for the sudden temperature drops? Maybe out in the desert, the lack of sun could cause the fluctuation. But here in the city, with all the lights and people and cars? One rarely needed a jacket in the summer evenings.

She ducked into a 24 hour Chinese restaurant just as Dean caught up with her and pulled to the curb. He was persistent if nothing else. Luckily, the manager was a friend and allowed her to pass through the kitchen and out the back while he delayed Dean at the hostess stand because the restrooms were for paying customers and a to go carton of white rice wasn’t a meal.

Back out on the streets, she saw ‘Pacino’ at every turn and in places he had no business being. One minute he was behind her, the next he was two blocks ahead, staring her down, waiting for her arrival. If she hung a left, he was there. It was as if he was teleporting to where ever she would be.

“Bus it is,” Siobhan thought as the 105 pulled to the curb, trying to figure out another way to escape whatever was following her. She didn’t notice the Impala trailing the bus until she stepped off at the final stop before the route turned back to town. She had no idea what she was doing and no idea if she was safe. And she tried to run when she saw Dean’s car but he drew his weapon and held her in place until Driver had picked her up and brought her here, to this recently abandoned motel out in the desert.

Siobhan tried another approach when Dean hesitated to answer. She saw the conflict in his face, the silent war he was having with himself about what to say. She took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the fear growing with every passing minute and attempted to go back to sweet talk. “Look, you seem to know more about this pin than I do and you seem to know why it feels like I’m being followed by more than two guys in fast cars. So can you please just tell me, tell us,” she nodded toward Driver, “what is happening?”


End file.
